This was why relationships sucked: they made you need shit you’d been perfectly happy not needing. And then they took them away. He gave me one of those too-searching, too-sincere looks. “Well, if that’s what you want.” I nodded, quietly hating myself. “It’s what I want.” “Then, I’ll see you on Sunday…” He smiled. Oliver Blackwood was smiling. At me. For me. Because of me. “…Lucien.”
